Written in the Stars
by Crow-Black Dream
Summary: Pidge discovers a way to send messages back to Earth.


Author's Notes: I do not own anything related to the Voltron universe. For now this is a one-shot story. Eventually I may post additional chapters regarding the rest of the team. The bit about combustion engines in contrary to another story I've written which suggests that they have been outdated. It is what it is. Also, a big thank you to the anonymous reviewer who pointed out the appropriate term I was going for in the story, not "extraterrestrial " but "extraplanetary." This has been corrected.

Genres: Drama, family, angst, and maybe a touch of humor

 _ **Written in the Stars**_

 _ **by Crow-Black Dream**_

A single beam of light arced through the darkness, then shook and tumbled as Pidge rounded a corner, walked straight into a shin-high metallic fixture and dropped her flashlight. She reflexively grabbed her leg and let out a few choice curse words (none of them Altean in origin) before she picked up the fallen flashlight. For living in a high-tech castle, she thought that finding a light switch would be easy. But no.

She was in the middle of helping Coran take inventory when she curiously walked into a darkened wing of the armory and straight into… this. "Hey Coran! What is this thing?"

Coran easily found the light switch high on the wall and illuminated the room. To Pidge that 'thing' looked similar to the Mars Curiosity rover of the early 21st century. Its main features consisted of a boxy lidded platform, six heavily treaded wheels affixed to flexible joints and a lifeless head containing sensory equipment. It stood alongside two others of its size and was dwarfed by one model as large as a tank. Each model sat before metallic hollowed hemispheres the color of pewter.

"It's an Extraplanetary Ballistic Delivery System," the Altean leaned down to inspect it. "It can deliver medical supplies and food packages to allies on the ground, thus eliminating any unnecessary hazards that might befall paladins trying to make a run."

"So… a robot mailman?" Pidge was busy looking over the wired nodes.

"Not a robot mailman," Coran said a little indignantly.

"Can it deliver massages?" the green paladin asked through a sly grin.

"Well, yes, I suppose it can," Coran stroked his moustache. A moment elapsed before he realized what she was getting at. "It is _not_ a robot mailman!"

Pidge didn't reply or drop the expression.

"Now come along, our work isn't done," Coran shooed her back into the main armory room.

The young Voltron tech threw one last glance at the machinery as she began to plot.

…

Later that day Shiro, Keith, Lance and Hunk received a typed message on their communicators: _Paladins, please meet me in the control room._

They all gathered promptly and were greeted by an excited Pidge, who wielded paper and pens. There were also several handmade envelopes. Allura stood at her command station with a similar excited smile and hands regally clasped before her waist. In the center of the floor a large rectangular affair was concealed under a sheet. The male paladins looked over the situation cautiously, aware that a smiling Allura wasn't always a good thing.

"Thank you all for coming here," Pidge started off formally. "Today I discovered something in the armory and I wanted to share it with you. Ta-da!"

She ceremoniously pulled the sheet off and tossed it aside.

"…What is it?" Lance was the first to speak.

"It's an Extraplanetary Delivery System."

"Extraplanetary Ballistic Delivery System," Coran interjected.

"Sorry, sorry. Extraplanetary Ballistic Delivery System. We can call it EBDM for short."

"Ballistic? Like a missile?" Already Hunk wasn't too keen on where this was going.

"Ballistic, like a projectile," Pidge didn't want any negative connotation mixed up in this.

"You know, it really doesn't help that the acronym _really_ sounds like ICBM."

"What's that?" Allura asked.

"That stands for Intercontinental Ballistic Missile. About 150 years ago Earth had its second world war. The country we came from?" Hunk waved his finger around in a circle at the humans who, despite their various ethnicities, all looked down at the American land one last time as Lance's Blue lifted off to launch them beyond the atmosphere and across the stars. "Our country developed a bomb to split atoms, way worse than a conventional explosion."

"Yes, I'm aware of such weaponry," Allura said. This was not exclusively human technology; there were reports of similar achievements among other civilizations within the castle's databank.

"Well we set it off over another country. Twice. It was argued that it effectively ended the war, but that sort of power is lethal. Like, look up the word 'lethal' in the dictionary and you'll see pictures after these bombs. The dead ones were lucky because the people who survived had so many horrible effects- sick beyond their worst nightmares, flesh literally falling off their bones, things way way worse than that. The energy set off by the bomb just shredded their DNA and later there was lots of cancer and birth defects-"

Coran made a small squeamish squeak.

"Hunk!" Shiro said sternly. He knew when Yellow's paladin got on one of his morbid tangents he could steer the conversation into very dark waters.

Hunk snapped back to the point, "But the thing is, these bombs were so heavy we had to drop them by plane. Meanwhile, _another_ country was really upset that they didn't have the power, and with the whole geopolitical mess after World War Two, when they figured it out and surprised our country with a test of their own we had to really up our research on how to deliver them by rockets, which were still a new thing. Eventually both sides got around to developing what were called Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles, or ICBMs. Then there were a few decades where both sides were terrified of the other blowing them up and destroying the whole word. Scary times, even if we gained space exploration from the whole deal. Even after things cooled off we still have a few thousand nukes lying around, nevermind how to dispose of them. The world's never been the same since. That EBDM or whatever name Pidge fished out of the alphabet soup just sounded a lot like ICBM and made me think it sounds like bad, bad news."

"Well it's not at all like that," the green paladin said defiantly. "It's contained within a shell which is mostly high-carbon diamond-like steel which is not capable of a nuclear explosion, I might add, and dropped into the atmosphere. Coordinates are programmed pre-flight that direct it where to land."

"The casing has control thrusters that will direct into the proper trajectory and decelerate to a safe speed. Once it has landed the shell opens and the Delivery System travels the last portion of the journey while the enclosure quickly disintegrates," Coran took over the explanation. "It's nearly indestructible, it has cloaking capabilites and a recognition program to ensure that the right people receive their package."

"So it's like a robot mailman," Pidge concluded.

"It's not a robot mailman!" Coran shouted in frustration.

"I don't understand what we're supposed to do with it," Keith strolled around to inspect it with a soft kick to one of the tires.

"This is a way to get messages back to Earth," Pidge said. "Of course, it took a bit of convincing for the princess…"

"Pidge made a solid argument that it would be great for team morale!" Allura nodded enthusiastically. She didn't notice the way the green paladin rolled her eyes. Many other arguments had been made, until at last that phrase 'team morale' appealed to the princess. "It's all a matter of launching when we make the next wormhole jump."

She summoned the star map to assist in the explanation. It took several moments of scrolling before the Solar system appeared. Each paladin watched the sobering reminder of how far away home was. It hurt to see every time. "A direct jump so close to your Earth would draw attention. However, if we launch the vehicle while the castle is traveling through it will be catapulted much like how your lions were ejected. The energy from such a small craft won't register on Galra scanners, they're too far away."

Pidge resumed her part in the explanation. "The plan is to set its arrival point within the asteroid belt. That will give it enough space and time to position. When it's on the ground it can deliver messages to our families."

"You want us to write letters back to Earth?" Shiro clarified.

"Yep," Pidge offered the paper and writing tools. The paper was papyrus-like and durable enough to survive over ten thousand years in a dark castle. It was also remarkably hard to find, as Allura initially couldn't remember where it was kept. Lance and Hunk gleefully snatched it from her hands while Keith and Shiro simply stood looking at her.

The yellow paladin brought up a question that was bothering him. "So exactly where is this ballistic whatchamacallit going? Who's going to intercept it?"

Pidge had also been considering this, although it was never really a question to her. "I was thinking of sending it to my mom."

Lance's face contorted in protest. "Aww, that's no fair! Why do you get to decide?"

"I don't get to decide that, it's a team decision. But I did discover this, I came up with the idea and my mom is probably the person among all our families who wouldn't think this is all some sick joke. She's used to the confidentiality from my dad's work so she won't let the media take off with it. We can trust her."

The was a grumble of agreement.

"What if we don't have anyone to write home to?" The red paladin's tone was a bit standoffish.

Pidge didn't know how to respond to Keith. She'd thought this was such a good idea. At last she managed, "You don't have anyone?"

"No one."

Again she was at a loss for words. She turned to her team leader, aware that he had parents and an older brother. In an uncertain tone, "What about you, Shiro?"

He held his hands up, trying to dismiss the idea. "I don't want to give them false hope."

"False hope?" Lance scoffed. "That's a poor excuse if I've ever heard one."

Shiro was about to say that he didn't want to open old wounds for his family. They assumed he was dead in space. Hunk said exactly that when they first met and Pidge once described the triple funeral for the lost Kerberos astronauts. He didn't want to send one mysterious letter from beyond the grave only to fail and never be heard from again. The guilt would be worse than all the star-shot space between them.

Keith cut in. "Sounds reasonable enough to me."

He turned and strode for the door just as Lance started to argue. With his head down and his hands in his pockets Pidge knew the red paladin was not happy. He was living on his own in that dusty shack when the group first crossed paths, but was he really without a family? Didn't he have any friends? She could let him cool down and seek him out later or she could stop him and make her apology here. "Keith, wait."

He stopped obediently but barely turned to look over his shoulder at her. She stepped up. "Look, I'm sorry if my idea brought up bad memories or-"

"Don't worry about it," his feet moved impatiently.

"No, I _will_ worry about it." Pidge felt bad but she was not about to tolerate him sulking. "I don't know much about your life because you don't say much, and that's fine if you don't. I'm sorry about whatever it is about this that bothers you."

Keith tried to correct the scowl on his face. Undeterred, Pidge strode forward and shoved the supplies into his hands. "Take these. If you want to write a message you've got until the jump tomorrow after breakfast."

Shiro walked silently until he stood between the two of them. He briefly put his left hand on Pidge's shoulder to signal that she had swayed his decision while his right hand on Keith's shoulder reassured him that he was free to make the choice. He then took the writing supplies and turned to face the rest of the team. "Okay, let's relax for the night. We've got training exercises all day tomorrow so you'll need the rest."

They said their farewells and went their separate ways, the humans armed with pen and paper.

…

Pidge, Allura and Coran were the first ones to the breakfast table. The Alteans were early risers by nature while the green paladin was too wired to sleep much. The letter wasn't as long as she'd hoped for, but then she was never good with words. Rather, she spent most of her downtime pinpointing the landing site with the help of precise coordinates obtained via Lance's Blue lion and setting the recognition apparatus, making the operation possible for everyone. She was considerably chipper despite the long night. The other paladins made their way in one by one. Lance and Hunk arrived looking somewhat melancholy as they stacked their sealed messages on the sideboard. Shiro looked rested and calm when he set down his envelope. At last Keith came slinking into the room. He nonchalantly set a thin letter atop the others and took a seat at the table.

Breakfast was quiet at first, then the tension dissolved into conversation. When the meal was finished Pidge pushed back her chair impatiently. "Alright, let's get this thing underway."

The letters were banded together and placed inside the rover's compartment. Under computer guidance the vehicle rolled through the closed airlock into the concave husk where it folded up and powered down. Hunk and Keith fitted the casing's halves together and tightened the bindings while a hose dropped from the ceiling. From Pidge's understanding it was a mixture of elements suitable for Earth's environment which expanded like foam before setting up with enough strength to endure a ride through the atmosphere, then a supersonic impact. Coran locked the hosing into an aperture on the shell's side. Once everyone was securely back inside the castle they watched through the window as the padding process began. It was completely unremarkable to the naked eye, but they watched just the same as the thought about what they'd written, the people who would read it, the private fears and hopeful dreams that they couldn't find the words to describe.

They left the airlock to take their stations for the jump. Allura began the countdown while their eyes were trained on the view screen. At the zero mark the castle roared as it always did while the momentum pushed through their bodies. Stars stretched out into long lines, the solid colors fractured into every hue in the spectrum. A blaze of white energy streamed across the lower right corner of the screen, barely perceptible among the chaos of the wormhole.

…

A small metallic body manifested on the inner edge of the asteroid belt. Its computer and thrusters worked together to bring it past a nearby red world where it rode the gravity well into a tight orbit around the star, hit a LaGrange point and slingshot to the third planet. It circled the globe several times until it lost enough momentum to fall. The husk lit up in a hot-green streak over the North American continent. At last it crashed down in the state of Colorado far enough from the nearest population center to avoid death and collateral damage. The meteorite hissed and popped as it cooled. After a time the bindings loosened themselves and the rover pushed the encasement off while it expanded into life. The shell was already crumbling into carbon as the rover trundled along toward the city.

…

Colleen Holt pulled the car into the garage, tapped the button clipped to the sun visor and left the engine running once the door was shut. She sat white-knuckling the steering wheel, willing herself to sit and breathe deep even after the air was thick with exhaust.

Sam and Matt were gone. It was a fact she had begrudgingly accepted not long after the first reports of lost contact. They were meant to be gone nearly a year overall. That time had already elapsed along with another year plus many more months spent numbly going though the motions of life. Colleen was at what she considered to be the lowest point of her life when no sign of the Kerberos crew was ever found.

And then there was Katie.

Her daughter took to listening to the white noise of space. The girl had a stubborn streak a mile wide and she insisted they were out there. She even pulled up video feed transmitted from the Kerberos vehicle which stood silent and alone and completely intact despite reports of a crash. Half of Colleen believed they could be out there without a functional comm link, somehow flying back on a wing and a prayer. The other half lay awake at night whispering that enough time had gone by; they were dead with empty tanks, starved and terrified and frozen.

She tried to keep a strong façade for Katie, she really did. And she really was holding herself together well. She met with mission control officials again and again throughout the weeks, always maintaining her composure when told there was still no transmission. She kept the porch light on every night. She thought she'd grown used to the cold bed and the quiet house since their departure… until it became permanent. The Garrison made a declaration: all passengers aboard the Kerberos mission were dead in space. They didn't even bother to call immediately; rather, she found out by watching the news.

Colleen shut the funeral out of her mind as much as she could, though snippets flashed through her memory every single day. The thing that guilted her most of all was the way she struck her daughter not long after.

Katie wouldn't give up that damned white noise for the life of her. She ceaselessly tracked through the skies with her handcrafted computer. At first Colleen admired the way the girl found a constructive channel for her grief despite the spark of denial. She even managed to discover a new pulsar which was now registered with the International Astronomical Union.

The longer things went on, however, the more Colleen saw the single-mindedness that possessed her daughter. She caught her half-awake on the balcony too many nights when she wasn't holed up in her room. Conversation topics narrowed down to notes on her progress, hopeful leads which always turned out to be false, or new additions to her computer setup.

Katie kept quiet on those subjects from the time the Garrison made its announcement until two days after the memorial service. Colleen went to wake her for school and found she was not in her bed. With her heart pounding anxiously she went down the hall and onto the guest room's balcony where she found the girl wrapped up in a blanket asleep beside her computer.

She dragged her back inside by the arm and asked what the hell she was doing. Katie started to say that she'd found a signal when Colleen slapped her across the face with such speed and force that her glasses flew off her face.

Colleen stared at the reddening handprint on her daughter's face and began, "Katie, Katie I'm so sorry…"

The girl kept her eyes down as she turned away and knelt to get her glasses. She then walked silently to her room where she slowly closed the door and rolled the bolt lock. It took a few days before she showed herself long enough for Colleen to apologize. Even then she was cold and grudging in her acceptance

Only a few weeks later she was waving around an acceptance letter to the Garrison's training program. With a little persistence she'd managed to hack into the enrollment databank and added Pidge Gunderson to the roster without any contact information to generate a paper trail, all of this unbeknownst to Colleen. The letter in hand was addressed to Katie Holt, as she simply nabbed the template and addressed it to herself. Her mother's heart was broken all over again as her one living family member was running into the clutches of the same institution that hurtled her husband and son toward their doom.

Colleen told herself that the slap wasn't the reason Katie left but she knew it made it easier for her to leave.

Things had smoothed over by the time she left for training and she called home like clockwork at 8:40 every Sunday night and sent emails with updates a few times a week.

Until she didn't.

Colleen emailed Katie and said she hoped she was feeling well when she didn't call one Sunday night. When no reply came within a few days she sent another email. Perhaps the girl was busy with a project or exams, though she hadn't mentioned either. When another 8:40 Sunday night came and went Colleen was calling the Garrison's office. They informed her Katie Holt was not and never had been a student there, especially not after the girl was caught trespassing as a civilian and hacking into the system. She tried desperately to find the acceptance letter for proof, but all paperwork was gone. Despite her attempts to wrangle information from the officials who were previously caring and cooperative when Sam and Matt were still considered missing, she was shut out and forced off Garrison property. A missing persons report and police investigation yielded no results no matter the amount of persistence on her part.

Four months had elapsed since then. And so she was forced to go on living alone, hope dwindling with time. Many days were spent passively wishing for the end: thoughts of taking her hands off the wheel on an empty stretch of freeway, wondering how cold the river rapids were this time of year, contemplating the act of simply walking out into the exposure of night. She wanted to be with her family. She simply hadn't found the strength to do it. And so she flirted with death in little ways like this, sitting in a closed garage with the car running.

Her head was not swimming with fumes, but rather thrashing around screaming at her body to do something. Only a bit longer, just enough to get past the growing headache, just enough for the sleepiness to creep in. At last her survival instincts forced her hand to reach over to the ignition and shut off the engine. It was decided: this was not the way to go.

She got out, ignoring the noxious fumes and the growing inhalant headache, and left the garage's side door open for ventilation while she crossed the backyard through the gate and unlocked the house.

"Hey Gunther," she greeted the bull terrier.

He looked at her with ears and tail perked up and a hopeful dog smile on his face. He scanned the empty space behind her to look for the rest of the family. Seeing there was nobody else, his ears dropped as he let out a disappointed whine.

"Sorry, buddy. Not today," Colleen stepped aside for him to go out. She set the groceries down on the counter, pulled a wine bottle out of its crisp paper bag and went to turn on the TV for background noise. As usual it was tuned to a trusted news channel.

"…this meteorite which shot across Midwestern skies before crashing down somewhere in the Rockies. Scientists and amateur space enthusiasts alike are trying to locate the exact crash site. Experts say that while it is possible the object disintegrated before impact there may be enough material left behind to collect…"

She watched the multiple shots sent in by viewers, rather curious after hearing coworkers mention it earlier today. It was a brilliant green bolt trailing across the screen over and over from different angles. Musing to herself that it was the most beautiful thing she'd seen in a long time, she cast a tired smile at the falling star before she turned and went back to the kitchen.

Once the groceries were away she leaned against the counter and ran a hand through her shaggy ash-blonde locks while thinking about the haircut appointment she'd missed. Too many things were escaping her mind these days. People already knew her situation and pitied her at first, then it became an excuse she couldn't help but overhear from coworkers and administrators. _Poor Colleen, her whole family's gone. She's got more on her mind than remembering to bring back the student's tests. Do you think she needs a break?_ Or: _She's looking pretty spacey. I would too if I were her._ She even heard it from students. _Mrs. Holt looks like she got dragged under a bus these days…_

She opened a drawer to retrieve the corkscrew. Was she looking like hell before or after began to depend on the marvelous mind-numbing effects found in a glass bottle? She didn't know or care. All she was concerned with was keeping this little ritual secret, even on hungover days when her head ached and her dehydrated skin betrayed her. A point of pride kept her from drinking every single day and not until she was safely home at night. Every so often she would have a glass at dinner with her girlfriends, but the taste always reminded her of what it was like to be home and completely numb.

Out in the backyard the dog started to bark fiercely as she fiddled with cork. When he didn't stop she roared irritably through the screen door, "Gunther, shut up!"

No results. She saw he was hell-bent on pushing through the fence to reach whatever was bothering him and was about to chastise him again when the doorbell rang, sending the dog into an even louder frenzy. Colleen froze with her eyes on the front door. Slowly she crept forward with the corkscrew jutting between the knuckles of her middle and ring fingers. There was nobody outside the peephole so she called cautiously, "Who's there?"

When there was no answer she slowly opened the door and jumped back at the sight of what appeared to be a child's remote controlled vehicle on the doorstep. Cautiously she glanced outside to look for somebody with the controller. The neighborhood was unoccupied. Then she noticed a telescoping piece of metal which this thing used to ring the doorbell as it retracted back into place. A green laser beamed a point between two eye-like cameras, causing her to retreat into the house until she tripped over the rug and fell backwards. It cast a grid to scan her facial features and found a match from the picture Pidge had used for recognition.

"State your name," a recorded voice instructed. The voice was young and androgynous.

Colleen recognized it right away. "Katie? Katie Paige?"

The robot's programming didn't know what to do; Pidge hadn't programmed it for that reply. It simply repeated itself, "State your name."

"Colleen Holt," the woman barely moved, stunned at hearing the long-lost voice of her daughter.

The name registered. The robot rolled forward into the house and opened the compartment lid to reveal a stack of envelopes. A new recording played: "Success! Hi Mom! I miss you so much! There's not much time to record, so quick: I'm alive and I'm well. And I'm also out of this world, literally. This is the only way to communicate and we don't have postage stamps here. Please stamp the enclosed letters and send them out; there are other people here who haven't talked to their families in a while. Almost out of time. If you want to replay this message press the little black button just below the speaker. Okay, I love you!"

Its job done, the EBDS folded up and shut down for good right there in the hallway. Gunther continued his barking with the occasional growl as he stood at the back door. Colleen stared tentatively at the lifeless machinery, uncertain if she should make a move. When nothing happened she reached into the compartment and brought out the envelopes, each written in a different hand. They were addressed to people scattered across the country. And there at the bottom of the stack was the handwriting she recognized so well, sloppy but legible. She tore into it, just careful enough to not rip the paper inside. The message within contained several words that had been scratched out, as though the writer didn't know exactly what she wanted to say.

 _Dear Mom,_ it began. Already the sight of those three letters 'M-o-m' in Katie's script caused the tears in Colleen's eyes to spill over.

 _I'm sorry I haven't called or come home. There's no way to contact you from here beyond this letter._

 _There is a lot I have to explain, most of it too long or complicated to write here. So much of it sounds crazy, and it almost is. I've seen so many strange things you'd never believe me until you can hear it in person. That's why I have to wait to tell you everything. But I do owe you an apology right now._

 _First, I'm sorry for that in itself. Sounding crazy. It was making you miserable to deal with me on top of everything with Dad and Matt. I know how insane those white noise theories were… it's surprising that you didn't take me in for a psych evaluation._ (Colleen actually had considered it for some time.) _Even now this is all so unbelievable. I can't imagine how you felt and I'm so sorry for putting you through that._

 _Second. I lied to you. I was registered at the Garrison under the name Pidge Gunderson._ (It was her family nickname combined with her mother's maiden name. Colleen smiled and said, "Clever girl.") _They caught me hacking into their database, I was banned from the property and my application was dismissed… but you know how bad I wanted to get in, so I made a false profile for myself. I imagine you've already tried to find me and you've been running into dead ends. The Garrison doesn't really have much more information than you do because we're not there. We're not even on Earth anymore. Our location isn't meant to be a secret but you won't believe me until I tell you face-to-face._

 _You remember my teammates Lance and Hunk? I've told you about them over the phone. They're here with me. Having familiar faces really helps keep me together. There are other Garrison people here, too._ (Pidge had refrained from mentioning that one of them was the Kerberos pilot for fear of discrediting herself with such a wild claim, just as she knew better than to state that her father and brother were out in space too.) _We're working to get home as soon as possible. Nobody knows when it will happen. We're all hoping it will be tomorrow but that's daring to dream._

 _Sometimes it gets really lonely out here. I try not to think about it too much and just focus on my job. We do physical training and team building exercises, plus I get to work with some truly incredible technology, things that I'd never even dreamed of. I'm learning more and more each day._

 _One thing, though: the food here is atrocious. Nasty stuff. Bad tastes and weird textures. Luckily Hunk has some mad culinary skills, so he works with what we've got and I manage to stay well-fed. But there's nothing like your cooking. Especially your chicken wild rice soup. When I get home let's have that for dinner, okay?_

 _I miss you all the time, Mom. We'll see each other again. Until then you take care of yourself... I worry about how you are. You've always been the strong one for the rest of us but now there's nobody to look after you._

 _I'll come home. I promise._

 _Love,_

 _Katie Paige -_ _"Pidge"_

Colleen turned the pages over and looked inside the envelope, hoping for more. Nothing. She didn't know if the girl was delusional, living in an alley off some anonymous street in an unknown city, or if she'd proved herself so exemplary she was among the cadets stationed on the moon colony, or somewhere else altogether. Colleen would never know until her daughter came home to tell her, and the uncertainty to did little to ease her pain. However, here was proof that Katie was alive and well, and that was what she needed to keep pushing on through the days.

The wine bottle no longer called out to Colleen. There would be other days when she could not fight it, that she knew, but today's letter gave her strength for sobriety.

It was getting dark in the house while the air outside was taking on a soft pink evening glow. The grass reached up with vibrant green blades, thirsty for rain. Behind the rooftops the mountains jutted up in shades of gray and brown, tiny below the heavens. She sat down on the top step and looked up at a bank of peach-colored cumulonimbus clouds rolling in overhead. The first spring storm. Beyond that the atmospheric blues were shifting into warm sunset colors and a few stars dotted the ether as a trace of black edged in from the east. A waxing moon was sailing high, much of it in shadow. Was Katie up there looking down at the Earth? Or was she somewhere beyond?

There for the first time in the warm April night Colleen began to truly fathom the width and depth of the sky.

 _++End?++_


End file.
